


Que Sera Sera

by boffinhatwithapipeYuekagami



Category: Alternate Universe - Fandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Emotional Roller Coaster, Happiness and then sadness and then happiness, M/M, Travelling back in time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6038700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boffinhatwithapipeYuekagami/pseuds/boffinhatwithapipeYuekagami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is to say that history cannot be repeated?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Que Sera Sera

A melody drifted to the busy streets of London, making a woman who had lost her way wonder towards the source. 

_ Que sera sera _

_ Whatever will be, will be _

She knew that song by heart. Her mother used to play that song on the piano, lacing the same melody with a hum- and if she was lucky enough- her mother’s voice. In a sense, she found comfort in knowing a single familiarity in a place of the strange unknown.

Gathering her bag and crumpled maps, she found herself in front of a dingy antique shop, the door slightly ajarred. Despite her efforts to look at the interior, she could not find anyone.

 

Maybe this was a bad idea, she thought. So she began to step back and walked towards the main streets. But only few metres away, the sky released the heavy burden it carried, getting angry in the process. She found herself running towards the shop, her clothes soaking wet. In her mind, the only thing she wanted right now was a place to let this downpour pass. Somewhere warm. And somewhere open. 

Lightning and thunder began to clash their symphony when she finally pushed opened the door after contemplating for few moments. A warm blast of air greeted her cold skin, and in hopes of preserving the warmth, quickly closing the door. The sound was ever so present, notes dancing in the air- lingering and serenading her.

She jumped from her dazed stupor as the sound of thunder mixed the gentle notes of the song. Covering her ears, she moved inner the shop in hopes to meet the owner of it. She ought to say something aside from loitering around. Waiting for the owner to arrive, she browsed the old books neatly piled on the shelves. 

_ Alice in Wonderland _ . She read that when she was younger.  _ Maleficent.  _ Weird, she thought.  _ The Secret Garden. Jane Eyre. Pride and Prejudice.  _

 

_ the future's not our’s to see _

_ Que sera sera _

 

“Beautiful. Is it not?” 

She dropped the book she was holding. Whipping around, she saw a young woman- same age as her- holding a stack of vinyl records. The young woman smiled at the visitor and settled the records by the table near the record player. 

“Yes. It is a very beautiful song. Doris Day, right?” She smiled and settled the book she was holding back to where it was supposed to be. 

“Yes. It is my grandpa’s. He liked it.” The young woman hummed the melody. 

Outside, the weather was turning from worse to worst as strong gusts of wind rattled the window and the door. The lightning did not stop. Instead, they were of greater intensity. Thunders coming close to a certain great decibel of noise.

There was no way she was going out after that.

“Um. Excuse me. Do you mind if I stay here?” She muttered finally. “I just needed the storm to pass.” 

“Of course. Make yourself at home.” The young woman smiled. Then she grinned. “Or better yet, come with me at the back room. We can have a cup of tea and some biscuits there.”

“Won’t you murder me or something?” She said jokingly, smacking herself in the process. “Um- Sorry.” She mumbled.

“Oh don’t be. I have a lot of books at the backroom that you can use to whack my head. And I have a telephone there. You can call 999 if I ever show some behaviour.” The young woman paused her works and turned around, her blue eyes smiling. “What’s your name by the way?”

The visitor smiled. “Amelia Sage. But you can call me Amy.”

“Nice to meet you, Amy. My name is Mary. Mary Howell.” 

  
  


The backroom was indeed comfy. Very comfy. The chair Amelia was now sitting on was the comfiest chair her bum had ever touched. There was a fireplace too. Crackles of the fire made her quite home, and the towel wrapped around her shoulder made her warm. 

True to Mary’s word, the room had a lot of books. Like a lot of it. If the books were neatly stack at the store, the backroom was filled with books- only the shelves were not enough so the floor housed some books instead. 

Another one that caught her eyes was the thing in the other part of the room. It was a grand piano. Although it looked old, the aura of sophistication during its era was still lingering on the woods. The ivory piano tiles was also well kept. Amelia was impressed. 

As her eyes roamed around the room, a series of photographs caught her eyes as well. The old faded photographs hanging on the victorian papered walls. One was a couple standing still, but smiling nonetheless. The girl had a veil on the top of her head, and the boy had a rose on his left side pocket on his vest. A wedding. Amy felt herself smiling at it. 

The next one was a family picture. The same couple with children sitting on their feet. One was a baby boy, still clad in his sailor suit. (typical) One was an older one, with his twinkling eyes staring back at the camera, his curly hair frozen in the photos but was moving from the wind when this photo was taken. 

Then came another photograph. A photo of three young boys. The two were the older version of the boys from the family picture. The other boy, however, did not bear any resemblance with the other two. Instead, his smile was crooked, eyes twinkling but with a hint of unfamiliarity from the two other boys. What caught Amelia’s eyes was the hand of the unfamiliar boy snaking one of the two boys. And their smile. It was the smile of the two that made Amelia’s chest warm. It was like..it was like.. they were definitely in love. 

Shaking her thoughts, she looked at another photo. This time, the unfamiliar boy and one of the two boys were looking at each other, grins plastered on their faces. Their arms were looped around each other,body pressed together. That, Amelia thought, was the proof they were in love. 

Amelia caught sight of smudged writings at the bottom of the photo. She read the letters at the bottom of the photograph.

_ PML and DJH, 1962 My heart is yours forever. _

Amelia wondered what those initials were. 

Then another photograph. This time. It was coloured. Mary and a girl similar to her features were sitting on the lap of an old man smiling. Amelia recognized that smile. It was the smile of one the boys. 

“That will be my grandpa.”   
  


“Jesus fuc- Christ.” Amelia jumped. “Stop sneaking on people like that.” 

“Sorry.” Mary smiled apologetically. She walked towards one of the tables and settled the tray of tea and biscuits. Amelia got up and walked towards the table and sat down in front of her. 

“So, Amelia,” Mary began as she gave Amelia her cup. “What are you doing in London?”

“I am searching for an abandoned place actually.” 

“Normally, people search for some place where there are people.” Mary sipped her tea. “But then again, you are not those people. You came in to have some tea with a woman who runs a dodgy antique shop.” 

Amelia stopped midway through sipping. “Should I be concerned with my choices right now?” 

Mary chuckled. “No.”

Amelia smiled. “I am actually here for a potential place to put my shop on.”

“What kind of shop?”

“Flower shop.”

“I see. Florist?” 

“Yes. Pianist?” Amelia felt the surge of confidence. 

“Yes. And also a literature major.” Mary pointed out the books. 

  
“Double degree holder?” 

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Oxford and Juilliard.”

Amelia choked on her tea. “Excuse me? Juilliard? Oxford?” 

Mary rolled her eyes. “I know. Such pretentious right? I studied there with all those ‘gifted’ people.”

“Guess you are special then?”   


“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Amelia ate a cookie. “If you are from Juilliard and an Oxford’s degree of Literature, why are you here in this- no offence- dingy antique shop?”   
  


Mary settled the cup on its saucer. “None taken. I get that a lot. Actually, this shop is my grandpa’s.”

“The one from the photograph with a young man?”

  
Mary smiled. “Yes. That grandpa. But he is not my grandpa really. He is like the brother of my direct grandpa, if that makes sense. He did not have a child of his own. So when he died, he wrote in his will that Marie- my twin sister- and I will have his shop.”

“Twin sister?”

“Yeah. She is in America at the moment.”

Amelia straightened her posture. “What happened to the young friend of his?”

“Oh that one? That is not his friend. That is his lover.”

This is the second time Amelia chokes on her tea. “Sorry?”

“The grandpa is gay and he only has one lover all through his life. He never thought of having another one.” Mary shrugged. “The wonders of love.”

“What happened to them? Are they together till, you know, the end of their days?”

Mary grinned. “You really are curious, aren’t you?”

Amelia blushed and nodded. “Yeah. I am. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. I quite like curious souls better than content with their knowledge ones.” She winked. If Amelia could blush any harder, she would.

“But you have to understand, Amy,” Mary’s lips pressed together to form a thin line. “Life is such a wonderful thing despite all the bad things. Life is even more wonderful when mixed with love.

“It all started when my grandfather is studying at Cambridge where he met this dashing young boy.”

“You made it sound like a sick love story by your word dashing.”

“Oh but he was. He was riding a bike, nearly hitting my grandpa in the process.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“What are their names?”

“My grandpa’s name was Daniel James Howell.”

“And the other young boy?”

“Philip Michael Lester.”

“Go on.”

“It all started in a sunny day afternoon…”

**Author's Note:**

> NEW WORK NEW WORK NEW WORK EHY!


End file.
